"I have lost the capacity for surprise," she answered. "Try me!"
"The real name of the man who is passing as my uncle—is Leslie Guest!"
She scarcely justified her last assertion, for her eyes were full of wonder, and she drew a little away from me as though in fear.
"Leslie Guest! The man who died at Saxby!"
"He did not die," I answered. "It was a case of suspended animation. When I read his letter to me, and when I saw you in the morning, I believed him dead. So did all the others. It was in the middle of the next night that the nurse discovered that he was alive! We sent for the doctor, and by the next morning he was able to speak. It was then that we determined to make use of what had happened."
"I see," she murmured. "That is why you changed the place of burial."
I nodded.
"Guest planned the whole thing himself," I said. "It was easily arranged. The curious part of it all is that he seems to have got the poison out of his system entirely now!"
She looked at me a little breathlessly.
"You are really wonderful people, both of you," she said.